Saturday, October 19, 2013

Life has been happening, and it is busy enough to blog about... but also busy enough that in my down time I don't want to think enough to process through a post.

So the blog... and my few readers suffer in silence.

Since my last post we have had an MRI.

I'll start this story about three or four weeks ago.

Andy has really been feeling poorly. He has been sleeping a lot. Not involving himself in much of anything. He has had trouble carrying on conversations, finding words... tracking what people are saying. I have seen a cognitive decline over the past few months. His energy is LOW. He complains of headaches and stomach pains almost daily.

So pretty much... just feeling terrible. It's been hard to watch the slow decline of his health. I find I am doing more myself, taking on more of the load. It's been pretty stressful. I struggle to find the balance between wife and caretaker... of when to push him to do more...to try to motivate... and when to leave him be and let him rest.

So with all of that going on, both the Captain and I, along with other family and friends who have been witness to our lives over the past two months, thought there was some major tumor growth happening.

The morning of the MRI the Captain even said he fully expected bad news.

By the time the doc came in with the results, Andy was in the restroom. She waltzed right in and proclaimed that the MRI LOOKED GOOD!

I was stunned. Actually, I think I stared at her with my mouth agape for over a minute. She politely asked if I was expecting different news.

Uhhhh, yeah.

It was just amazing news. The swelling, that was so massive it was pushing the left hemisphere of his brain into his right hemisphere was almost all gone. The necrosis was healing itself and was almost gone... it really looked so much better. There is still a rim of tumor/necrosis in his tumor bed... but we are hoping the chemo and the trial drug he is on keeps regrowth at bay.

So we talked about how Andy was feeling. What drugs he was on, what we could change, tapper off of, get rid of... what we could be doing.

So he has been tapering off a massive does of steroids the past two weeks... and adjusting other medications.

I have seen slight improvements. He is more active, not sleeping as much. Wanting to go out more, (he went to church the past two Sundays) doing more with the boys.

He is still complaining of headache and stomach pain. Still having trouble with memory and conversation... still very tired. But I keep reminding myself... he is still in the throws.... still taking chemo, still recovering from a couple months of some strong meds... he needs time to build strength.

I have struggled with this chapter of my life. This limbo of not knowing where the Captain's cancer is going, how long it will take... what to expect. I have had bad attitudes... hissy fits... moments of breakdown, feelings of being totally and completely overwhelmed. And at each instance God has granted me time to take a shaky breath and grab some perspective.

Some days I am just too close. I have been living too close to see the improvements... the good things... the glimpses God gives of "old Andy". I get so lost in the day... Making the boys breakfast, rushing Rigg to preschool, being a mommy, doing dishes, folding laundry... checking to make sure Andy took his meds... all his meds... at the proper time...I get so caught up in the "urgency of now" I forget to take a step back and see what God is doing.

Because He is still busy at work I my life... in my boy's... in the Captain's. He is doing something. He is stretching my faith... He is teaching me to loosen my grip and let go, again and again and again.

God has a plan, not just for Andy's cancer. He has a plan for this in-between time... this incredibly hard and trying season of my life has purpose. He is preparing me, teaching me....hopefully, despite my daily failures, using me to accomplish what only He can. He has the bigger picture. And I need the reminder, so often, that in Christ, nothing is wasted. God is/will be using this. All of my hard things. God has a purpose.

So as I struggle under the weight of being a mommy, taking care of a sick hubby, obedience in my heart attitude and my words and actions. As I try to live rightly and love my family... as I try to let go... If I can remember that God is building something with all of my life... building something I cannot see... building something glorious and wonderful so people will see Him... If I can remember that, it is easier to rest in Him, to press on with a joyful heart... not complain and be uber thankful for all that He has blessed me with. Because, really I have so much!

It's all about perspective...

And really, this life is so fleeting. when I think of how fast it can go... and how Heaven awaits, the load seems so light.

It will be over soon. And we will be with Christ and have rest and peace.

I can't wait!

This is a video that was passed along to me weeks ago. I have listened to this so often I might have worn YouTube out!

who we claim to be

Hey all,If you do not know us, the first thing you should know is how much we love the Lord our God, and we are striving to live lives worthy of the title, Believer.
The second is we are praying everyday for His return. On that day we will be reunited with our precious baby girl Caden, the treasure of our hearts. Since the death of our daughter we have battled grief, hurt, tears in public, brain surgery and chemo. We have also celebrated new life in the birth of our 2 sons. So come, read, share and enjoy the life God has given us. Although it is not perfect, or even what we had planned it is what He wants for us, so we choose to rejoice.

start here!!!

The Captain and Cari

Our Joy, Caden Joelle.

"Michael said Caden's funeral felt like a wedding. I smile to type that, because in many ways, it was: a celebration of one little bride being united with the Lamb."

~Katherine Kramer~

our big Rigg

Ryder

things that make me laugh

I came back into the room from treating myself to a nice, cold diet coke when I saw the Captain playing with Rigg. He was making the stuffed animal dance in the air toward our son and saying in a sing-song voice “Here comes the zebra.” I looked at him and said in the exact same sing-song voice “It’s a giraffe.” To which the Captain, with only the briefest pauses, sing-songed back the reply… “Daddy had brain surgery.“